Twisted Fate
by White Phantom
Summary: Gryst'lyn Emberdawn, one of Silvermoon's most notorious players, finally falls for someone, and he falls hard. Fluffiness inside...? Rated M for nudity and adult themes.


_Disclaimer: I don't own any Warcraft or its lore._

_A/N:This was supposed to be my first fluff fic, but…I dunno. I am not generally of the fluffy sort, so feedback would be much appreciated. _

_This is a side fic for Impervious, by the way. If you want to see what becomes of Amaeria, read this one, then Lost Souls._

_Oh, and this takes place in Silvermoon before the Scourge attack and fel magic. _

...-...

Gryst'lyn Emberdawn lay nestled in rumpled sheets beside Lady Aubrist Dawnsong, stroking her back as she smiled to herself, content to simply enjoy his touch. He playfully drummed his fingers against the small of her back and she opened her pale blue eyes and leaned toward him, whispering, "Tell me you love me."

"I told you before I can't do that," Gryst'lyn gave her a half grin and they both laughed.

However, loneliness chased the humor from Lady Dawnsong's lips."I suppose you did." She sat up and nipped one of his long, elven ears playfully. He caught her around her waist and pulled her on top of him, his hands running across her smooth skin and his lips brushing like feathers against her neck. She pulled back slightly, crossing her arms and resting on top of them on his chest. "Why can't you? Even if it's only pretend—"

"Because I'm in love with someone else."

Lady Dawnsong let out a short cluck, eyebrows arching. "Does she know you're sleeping your way through town?"

"Probably not," he shrugged. "It's...complicated."

"My dear, I'm almost a century older than you. I think I can handle complicated."

Gryst'lyn slumped back into the tussled cloth around them. He ran his fingers across the slight stubble dotting his chin as he considered where best to start. "Well, I was nine and she was seven when we met. And, well, I don't know how to explain it, but it was like the whole world just fell away and she was all that there was."

"When you were nine?"

He grinned. "This is why I don't explain it to people." With a shrug, he heaved a dramatic sigh. "We played in the woods together for the whole day." Gryst'lyn frowned when he noticed his bed partner's disapproving look. "It was completely innocent. Please, I didn't turn into a dog for at least another dozen years." He laughed as Lady Dawnsong rolled her eyes. "But, we made plans to meet back near a creek the next day and she didn't show up."

"What happened?"

He shrugged again, allowing his gaze to wander to the window. "I never found out." A sad smile tugged at his lips. "I know it's crazy...I mean, I never even got her name. But I just...it's like I met my other half that day and no matter whose comfort I take, I haven't been able to feel anything like it since."

Lady Dawnsong ran her fingers across his chest to his shoulders as she leaned up and kissed him. "Poor thing...maybe you'll find her someday."

Gryst'lyn kissed her back and rolled over so that he was on top of her, the sheets tangling around their legs. "I hope so."

However, as he slipped down, his lips peppering her skin with kisses, an unfamiliar voice suddenly cut through the air.

"Aubrist? I'm home."

Gryst'lyn shot up to a sitting position. "You said he'd be gone for the weekend."

Lady Dawnsong was already darting out of the bed, running to her closet for a nightgown. "He was supposed to be." She didn't bother with underwear as she threw something on and turned to the room to help Gryst'lyn gather his clothes. She shoved his pants and shoes at him as he threw his shirt on, not bothering to button it up. "Go out the window."

"Are you mad, woman?"

It was not one of his finer moments, but then, as an elf who made a regular habit of sleeping with other men's' wives, he really didn't have many fine moments to choose from to begin with.

Lady Dawnsong was combing her fingers through her hair, desperate to make herself look like she'd just woken up. "There is a fidelity clause in my marriage contract. I am not about to lose this lifestyle because you're afraid of heights."

"I'm not afraid of heights; you have rosebushes."

Lady Dawnsong sighed and smiled, her expression softening as she walked up to him and ran her finger down his cheek. "Gryst'lyn...you're a good boy, deep down." She rose up on her toes to kiss him.

Gryst'lyn was rather caught up in the kiss when he realized his world was starting to tilt and he could feel wind. He grabbed the window frame, wondering for a split second how he'd gotten there so quickly. He always forgot mages could blink. Though, he had to admit he'd never seen one drag someone else along with them. "You're trying to push me out the damn window?"

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"I'm going," Gryst'lyn hissed, sitting on the sill and swinging his legs out even as he thrust them into his pants. "Could I at least get slow fall?"

"Of course, dear—"

"Aubrist?" The door behind them opened and Lady Dawnsong shoved Gryst'lyn in the back, sending him plummeting below as she snapped the window shut and turned to face her husband. "Didn't you hear me calling?"

"Darling," she started toward her husband. "I'm sorry, I was bird watching and I got quite caught up."

"Oh? What birds?"

"They don't matter now that you're here..."

~?~

Adrias Duskflame cracked his neck as he sauntered into his room. His clothes were a mess and his dark hair fell haphazardly around him. He pulled off the disheveled look quite nicely, however, something that had always worked well for him.

Just as he reached to pull off his robe and get ready to pass out after a pleasantly sinful night, an arm slung over his shoulders. The last time this had happened, it had been someone's fiancé who had stalked him and broken into his family's estate, so it was with a careful eye that he turned to see who was being so friendly and if it was just a front to lull him into a false sense of security before trying to break his nose. However, as soon as he saw the man standing beside him, he broke out into a grin.

"Gryst'lyn. I thought you had plans for the weekend."

The two of them had been friends ever since that fateful night years ago when they'd tried to pick up the same woman at a bar. It had been like looking into a contorted mirror for the two of them. Both were intent on sleeping with pretty much every woman in Silvermoon and when they had met, it had been as though fate had brought them together.

For a time, they wondered if they ought to be enemies, for surely if they were both trying to sleep with everyone, there would be certain individuals who would be against any overlap. However, both of their minds had considered how sabotage would probably be worse than simply sharing.

Ever since that night, they'd worked together mostly, heading into bars and helping one another get the girl. Girls, really. Every now and then one of them would find a particularly good lay and the other would be off on his own for a few days, but the 'My best friend just found someone and now I'm lonely' card worked beautifully with the ladies, so they were never too concerned.

There were but two constants in their lives. Their parents disappointment in them, and each other.

Gryst'lyn ran his fingers through his messy, crimson hair. "I had plans, but...they fell through."

Adrias inspected him, noticing how one of Gryst'lyn's shirt sleeves was ripped and his clothes bore dirt stains. "Was it a husband or father who came home?"

"Husband." Gryst'lyn murmured, sighing. He glanced around the room for a moment. "I was about to get sympathy sex, too."

"You used that story about falling in love when you were a kid, didn't you?"

With a full grin, Gryst'lyn nodded. "It's amazing how women always fall for that."

"You're such an asshole, Gryst."

"Your words are daggers in my heart." He grinned and held his hands over his exposed chest—he still hadn't bothered to button up his shirt—and stumbled back a few paces as though he'd been hit.

Adrias just laughed and shook his head. "I take it you need clothes, then?"

"Mm-hm," Gryst'lyn's humor slipped. "My father said he'd disown me if I wandered in looking like a street rat again." He paused. "I think he's all talk, but my sister's worried."

With a wave of his hand, Adrias motioned toward his closet. "Take whatever you want, just make sure you bring it back."

"You, my good warlock, are a saint."

~?~

"Get lost in the nether."

Gryst'lyn let his ears quiver and bend as he gave the woman in front of him a pitiful look, still holding his shirt out. "Lady Sunroost, please. You know you're the best tailor in Silvermoon."

The woman crossed her arms, a frown firmly in place. She'd been heading back from the market after purchasing half a dozen new silks when Gryst'lyn had materialized beside her, offering to help carry her things. He was always so helpful when he wanted something. She'd never been dumb enough to sleep with him or his man-whore friend, and somehow, her life was worse for it. It was like the duo respected her for keeping them at bay.

As a result, whenever they wanted clothes mended or to purchase something for one of their lady friends, they would come to her shop. While Lady Sunroost wasn't fond of them, they pretty much kept her shop open on their own and so she welcomed their coin.

However, today was different. One of the noble's was throwing a ball in a week's time and she had a good many dresses being foolishly ordered in the last minute.

"Have you ever considered that perhaps you don't deserve the best?"

Gryst'lyn pouted his lower lip, even though he knew that it wouldn't affect her. However, one of the newer seamstresses who worked at the shop was peering at him from the room in the back of the shop and if he played his cards right, she'd take pity on him and fix his shirt...and maybe even come home with him a bit later.

"This shirt means a lot to me—"

"You bought it here last week," Lady Sunroost snapped. "And I'm quite certain that any memories you may have made to make this scrap of cloth indispensable would be disgusting at best, so please just stop talking."

"I'll pay you the price of one of your gowns if you'll fix it."

"Buy a new shirt," she scoffed at the thought of how willing he was to throw away his money.

"But I like this one." He paused. "And I promise not to come back until after the ball. Spend five minutes sewing up my shirt and you'll have almost a full hundred sixty eight hours free from me."

"That," she snatched his shirt from him, "is a deal worth making."

As she disappeared into the back and started yelling at her newest apprentice, he heard a seamstress on the other side of the shop tell another customer they'd be right back. The voice who responded was soft and gentle. She sounded sweet and Gryst'lyn couldn't help but look her way.

It was like the rest of the world fell away.

He stood silently awestruck for a moment. He'd never seen her before, though part of him registered that she must be a priestess. He'd undressed enough of them to recognize their robes when he saw them.

Her long blonde hair fell down her back, ending a little below her well-shaped butt. Simple white hair clips helped her ears keep her hair from falling into her face, though she did have some longish bangs.

Gryst'lyn couldn't explain it, but it was as though he was drawn to her. As she leaned down to inspect the different hair accessories on a small display case near the door, he was abruptly struck with the terror that she might be on her way out. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to move, to call out to her.

He didn't just want to take her—he definitely wanted her in his bed, there was no denying that—but rather he wanted all of her. Her heart, her mind. His heart skipped a beat as her brow furrowed and she turned her head to glance at him, as though she'd felt him watching her. However, as their gazes met, her eyes widened and he could see in the soft glow of her blue eyes that she was feeling the same thing toward him.

What sort of spell could this be? To make him so entranced...

Someone caught her attention and she looked away and instantly he was jealous, glaring toward the seamstress who had stolen her away. The woman merely rolled her eyes and spoke quickly to the young priestess. She, on the other hand, spoke so softly...he wanted to hear her voice.

As the seamstress disappeared again into the back room, the young elf he'd just shared some strange connection with didn't turn back to him. Instead, she took to inspecting a few of the gowns on display nearest her.

He finally found his will to move again and he started toward her. What could he say? That he'd never believed in angels before her? That was far too corny, and there was no way she'd take him seriously if he said something like that. Should he compliment her beauty? He didn't want her to think he was shallow, even if he generally was.

He was floundering. He never floundered. He was never at a loss for what to say, never unsure how to approach a woman. He and Adrias had made a damn art out of it. As he came to stop near her, he abruptly realized that the reason he was so nervous was because he actually cared if she turned him down.

With most women, if they weren't interested, in the end there would be more. But this was different. And he couldn't explain why.

He barely realized that he'd picked up one of the dresses near them until he was holding it out to her and speaking. "I think this one would go better with your complexion."

In truth, he hadn't even looked at it. It was just a way to get her to talk to him. However, she had apparently been too engrossed in her own thoughts, for she jumped and whirled around when he spoke, staring up at him with a panicked expression as her cheeks and ears flushed. He wanted to nuzzle her hair. He offered her a confident smile, despite the fear seething through him.

She looked to be at an utter loss for words, which didn't help, as he was also tongue-tied. He needed to think of something else to say, and quickly, before she brushed him off. Just as he opened his mouth, Lady Sunroost came out from the back, calling out to him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that his tailor looked annoyed to see him already hitting on another of her customers. If only she understood that something inexplicable was happening.

Gryst'lyn looked back at the young woman in front of him, his smile slipping. He set the dress back on its hanging post and then, without thinking, turned back toward her and caught a few locks of her long hair, bringing them up to his lips.

"Give me just a moment, yes?"

It felt like time was slowing down as he walked back to Lady Sunroost and paid for her work. As he handed her the gold, she caught his hand, a frown firmly in place. "Keep it in your pants until you're out of my shop."

"Right, right," Gryst'lyn murmured, pivoting about to head back toward the priestess. However, he froze as his eyes scanned the store. She was gone. His disappointment was crushing the air out of his lungs as he walked back to where she'd been standing and glanced around. She had left? Even after he'd asked her to wait?

"Hey, we had a deal!"

He barely registered Lady Sunroost's angry comment as he turned slowly to look around the store again, as though the lady he sought might have been hiding behind something. As Lady Sunroost waved her hand to catch his attention, he finally snapped out of his dismay. "Who was she?"

Lady Sunroost's face blanked. "Just get out."

"I'll leave you alone for a month if you tell me who she is," Gryst'lyn wasn't in control of the words coming out of his mouth and even Lady Sunroost seemed surprised by how desperate he sounded.

She eyed him for a moment before calling to the seamstress who had helped the priestess. "Who was that just now?"

The woman shrugged. "She came by to pick up the robes for the novice priests at the cathedral." Pausing, she grinned as she saw the stricken look on Gryst'lyn's face. "Poor boy, did your wily charms finally fail you?"

Gryst'lyn didn't say a word as he turned and left the shop.

~?~

Lying in bed, Gryst'lyn was at a loss. He'd been determined to get past whatever this was. He'd brought two lovely young ladies home with him, but in the end, he'd sent them away, both rather disgruntled. After all, he was renowned for sleeping with just about anyone, so to have been rejected was unthinkable.

However, their problems were hardly his. Gryst'lyn couldn't get that young priestess out of his head. Just running his fingers against another woman's hand seemed inappropriate all of a sudden.

It had to be something she had done. While conjuring her memory made his insides melt, along with a few other bodily responses, there had to be some comprehensible reason that this was happening. It couldn't be love. Not real love.

Sure he'd heard stories of love at first sight—hell, he used that childhood love story on half a dozen women and he found that his comments about having his breath stolen away and such were eerily similar to what was happening now—and he'd seen Adrias use such claims to win over women with esteem issues, but this…someone must have put a spell on him. Perhaps some disgruntled magister had found out he'd deflowered their daughter or bedded their wife and they sought retribution by having him fall for some innocent little thing.

Gryst'lyn slipped out of bed and threw on a robe before trotting down a few halls in his family's manor to his father's study. Magister Emberdawn was working diligently by crystal-light, the pale, shimmering light bathing his books and research in a soft blue glow.

He didn't look up as he heard the door open. "I don't want to hear it."

Gryst'lyn frowned. Was he really that bad? As he considered that he mostly did come to his father only when he needed hush money or to make sure some lass and her growing belly would be well cared for until he could prove he wasn't the father, he realized that _his_ father was glaring him down, seeing as he hadn't fled from his sight immediately.

Shifting his weight, Gryst'lyn hesitated for a moment before walking forward and slouching into a seat across from his father near the desk. "I think someone's cast a spell on me. Or a curse. Or…something."

"Adrias?"

Gryst'lyn frowned when his father's first conclusion was to blame his best friend. Adrias might be a good many things, but he wasn't the type to stab a friend in the back. That was why he made a point of having so few—no need to tie his hands unnecessarily. "No, it wasn't him."

He watched as his father finished whatever sentence he was working on and then carefully lay his quill beside his parchment. Magister Emberdawn clasped his hands lightly in front of him and looked across the desk, eerily calm. "And I take it you wish me to remove whatever has been cast upon you?"

"I should hope so," Gryst'lyn murmured.

His father eyed him. "What are the symptoms?"

"There's this young lady—"

"Gryst'lyn Athoarel Emberdawn, do not waste my time," his father hissed and reached for his quill.

"I can't get her out of my mind," Gryst'lyn cried out in protest. "I don't even know her name, but she's all I can think about. I can't…even stand to think of myself with another woman." His father's hand thudded against his desk as he stared at his son with wide eyes. "I…it takes all my willpower to keep myself home instead of tracking her down right now." Gryst'lyn ran his fingers through his brilliant hair. "Please, I can't take this. You have to get rid of it."

His father stared at him for a long, terrifyingly quiet moment where it seemed that so much as a breath would unravel the very world itself. Finally, his father let out a long, slow exhale and Gryst'lyn was slightly unnerved that nothing seemed to have changed.

Well, except for the look in his father's eyes.

Magister Emberdawn looked as though he were torn between genuine joy and cruel amusement. He leaned his head into one of his hands, still watching the desperate expression draw lines across his son's usually confident, smooth face. "You're in love."

"I'm not," Gryst'lyn snapped, too quickly. "I just…it is a spell. You can remove it."

An alien look swept over Magister Emberdawn's features and he abruptly rose to his feet. "Alright. I'll help you." Even as Gryst'lyn shifted to the edge of his seat with an eager nod, his father walked over to one of his bookcases and pulled a small chest off of it. He rummaged through the vials for a moment and then pulled one from the midst. Turning, he walked swiftly to his son and offered it to him. "Drink this." When Gryst'lyn's face fell, he arched an eyebrow. "Find you a problem with my remedy?"

Gryst'lyn took the vial slowly, inspecting the pale liquid that swished around inside. "I'm just…surprised you would have something ready for something like this."

"When you have a dog of a son, it's best to be prepared."

Gryst'lyn couldn't argue against that logic. He started to raise the vial to his lips, but his father caught his hand. "There's more. Drink that and let it run through your system for two days, at least. Then, and this is important, you must confront the object of your desire. When next you see her, your feelings for her will be gone."

Even as Gryst'lyn knocked back the drink, he felt unease gnawing at his gut. "And if they're not?"

"Then you're truly in love and I haven't a thing that could remedy that."

With a nod and an uncharacteristic hug of his father, Gryst'lyn excused himself and hurried out of his study, nearly running headlong into his mother, who was just coming to demand her husband set aside his work for the night and come to bed. Between Gryst'lyn's man-whoring ways and her husband's workaholic nature, it was a wonder she ever saw either, so to see both meant only one thing…her love was clearing up some mess for their wayward child.

However, Gryst'lyn had looked so happy. "Darling, what in the world—"

"The boy's in love," Magister Emberdawn grinned, stepping up to his wife and kissing her gently.

She arched an eyebrow, skeptical. "And he's pleased with this? I'd always thought he would flee from commitment, if he ever learned of it."

"Oh, he's trying," His father grinned. "I gave him a sleeping potion and sent him to bed. He'll have to work through this on his own."

~?~

Gryst'lyn paused to catch a glimpse of his reflection in one of the golden statues lining the cathedral walls. It had been windy today and he was left wondering what in all magical creation was wrong with the magisters. Weren't they supposed to keep the weather pleasant? His hair had been blown about and buffeted and now a few strands had fallen out of his ponytail, making him look as though he'd run to the damnable house of the light in a fluster. What was worse was that he almost had. It had taken a great deal of willpower to keep his hawkstrider from tearing through the streets on his mission to be free of whatever this longing was.

Even as he supposed that he was dashing even when disheveled, he supposed it might not be so bad to be in love, though this priestess obviously couldn't be that fabled 'one'. After all, she'd abandoned him at the tailoring shop and for once more than just his pride was hurt. When he'd tried to explain it to Adrias, the warlock's response had been, "You have feelings? The women will love that."

He told himself that it didn't really matter how he looked, seeing as he was just there to break the spell. It wouldn't matter if that little priest fancied him or not, seeing as he was only coming to see her so that he wouldn't feel anything toward her. He'd already decided he wouldn't try to bed her, in case the spell had some strange twist where he'd never be free from her should he become too intimate.

It had been late when his father had given him that potion and so he'd waited until exactly two days had gone by, to the minute, stopping in a few times to ask his father what time he'd been given the potion and then a few more times to make sure his father was remembering correctly.

Magister Emberdawn had told him to just wait until the morning, but Gryst'lyn wasn't going to spend another night dreaming of his little priestess.

Not his….

He needed to get rid of this spell. And to find out who had cast it and make them pay. Was it her? Had some woman come crying to her, talking of a broken heart and the priestess had taken it upon herself to avenge her?

But, she had been as surprised as he'd been, he was sure of that. Was she just another victim of the spell?

A thought he'd never considered suddenly struck him. What if this had nothing to do with him? What if someone was trying to get back at the priestess, by ruining her reputation? Most girls who were known to have slept with him were not looked on in a very positive light. There were always a few innocent souls who claimed not to have known who he was, but that was a blatant lie. He always introduced himself, to avoid any unnecessary fall out. If a woman's reputation was ruined by sleeping with him, it was her choice to toss her unmentionables onto his bedchamber floor, not due to some deception.

However, the thought that someone had set his priestess up for a fall made him quietly seethe and he decided that even if he hadn't been the target, he would be sure to avenge them both. It was the least he could do. And perhaps an act of chivalry would leave her thinking twice about walking out on him again—

He frowned as he tried to remind himself he wasn't going to sleep with her.

Most of the priests were gone for the evening and Gryst'lyn began to worry that he really would have to wait until morning. He watched a few rogue priests wander the halls before finally slipping up to one and stopping him.

"Excuse me, Sir…"

The priest seemed surprised, though he quickly appraised Gryst'lyn's clothes, registered him as a noble and made a sweeping bow. "Sethyl Sunblade, at your service, though…I am not accustomed to confessions." When Gryst'lyn frowned, the priest seemed surprised and then flustered. He managed to mutter, "Not many come by so late for anything else."

"I'm looking for someone," Gryst'lyn said hastily, "A priestess." Even as the priest stared at him blankly, as though to imply that it was obvious that, if he was seeking someone in the cathedral, of course they'd be of the light, he attempted to paint as clear a picture as he could. "She's about this tall, slender, long, long blonde hair. Gorgeous smile, pale skin…." He tried to think of something more specific he could say. As it was, he was probably describing half the priestesses. Why couldn't he be better with details? He could make a full story about lost love, but he couldn't remember if his priestess had had dimples? Though, he hadn't seen her smile, had he? He suddenly wanted desperately to see her smile.

The priest in front of him shifted his weight and glanced around, not knowing what to say. He was supposed to have gone home hours ago, but had been roped into fixing a friend's necklace. He needed to get home before his idiot brother came to find him. The last thing he needed was his younger brother trying to become a priest; then he'd never find time to himself.

"Ah, you know what?" He smiled abruptly at Gryst'lyn. "I don't know if she's who you're looking for, but I think I saw a blonde priestess in the library. You could always check and see if she knows who you're looking for."

Gryst'lyn thanked him and started to bolt past him, only to pause and ask which direction the library was in. As he hurried off, the priest thanked the light for glimpses of blonde hair caught through doorways and hurried away himself, lest Gryst'lyn come back to ask for further assistance.

It took Gryst'lyn almost twenty minutes of wandering before he finally found the library. It was dishearteningly quiet inside, though he went in regardless, hoping against hope. He'd walked down the first row of books when he heard a soft thud to one side and he wandered over. All of a sudden, his feet felt like lead.

Would it be her? Was this agonizing longing going to be over in a few short seconds? Why did time feel like it was slowing down, working against him?

He came to the edge of the bookshelf and saw her. She was the elf from the tailoring shop, alright, and even as he saw her, she took his breath away. However, whatever had tipped her off to his gaze before seemed absent, or just to have lost out to whatever panic had overtaken her.

She hoisted a few books up onto a rather precarious stack resting on a table near her, eyed it, and then went back for a few more. When the stack was almost half as tall as she was, she slid her arms around the bottom most books and hoisted them into the air. The stack went well above her head, competing in height with her ears as she turned slowly and started walking toward him.

It took him a moment to realize she was about to walk into another table. Even as he darted forward, he heard her hiss softly, one of her hands crunching between the old tomes and the worn wood. Too late to stop the damage, he sought to at least mitigate it. His hands shot out, one catching the higher books before they could topple down onto her and the other steadying her by lightly gripping her elbow.

She whispered a quick thank you in a heavenly voice as she opened her eyes, having expected to be conked on the head by a few books at least. It was the first time she'd actually spoken to him and it sent a shiver up his spine.

However, when her gaze met his, her ears flushed a brilliant red, her jaw hung slack, and her beautiful voice caught in her throat.

Even as she struggled, Gryst'lyn couldn't help but smile, his earlier thoughts of freeing himself from her thrall all but vanished. He wanted to take her home and introduce her to his parents, to curl up with her in bed and just feel her heartbeat against his chest.

He leaned toward her to kiss her, but thought better of it. He didn't want to move too quickly and have her think he just wanted her for sex. "I believe you were taking these somewhere?"

She let out a squeak and dropped her books. Gryst'lyn found himself doubled over in pain as a few thudded down onto his toes. Even as he dropped his own books, and hopped away, he felt her slender fingers against one of his arms as she tried to help him regain his balance.

"A-ah, no!" She whispered a quick healing spell and he felt warmth seep through his toes, mending their bruises. "I'm so, so…" she floundered as he looked back up at her, "…sorry…"

Gryst'lyn leaned back against the bookshelf behind him, breaking out into laughter. The whole situation was so…bizarre. He watched her for a moment, taking in the way she seemed unsure what to do. She abruptly pulled her hands away from his arm and clasped them in front of her. "M-may I help you with something...?"

Straightening up, Gryst'lyn abruptly shrugged. "Perhaps," he glanced around as though he hadn't been so desperate to find her. "I'm looking for someone."

"I see," there was a poorly concealed ring of disappointment in her voice.

"She was supposed to wait for me a day or so ago in a tailoring shop, but she didn't. I wanted to ask her why she left me stranded. It was…quite hurtful." He gave her a sideways glance and his grin stretched further, the skin crinkling around the corners of his eyes as he saw her cheeks flush. "I don't suppose you can help me with that?"

She seemed to consider what to say for a moment before finally shrugging meekly. "Perhaps she thought she was dreaming."

"Understandable, I suppose," Gryst'lyn turned back to her fully, reaching out and running his fingers along her chin. "I know I'm not sure if I'm dreaming, myself." She gulped. "I never even caught your name."

"Amaeria. Amaeria Lightswill," she said in an exhale, reaching up and catching his hand. Touching her skin was electric and while he wanted to draw her to him, he settled for clasping his hands around hers.

"Well, Miss Amaeria. I think a certain compensation is in order for standing me up last time," he grinned and pressed a finger to her lips when she tried to say something. "Have dinner with me."

She looked hopeful for a moment, but her face abruptly fell. "I can't." Even as he frowned, she motioned hastily toward the books littering the floor around them. "I have to finish moving these books to the new shelf near the front…" Gryst'lyn furrowed his brow for a moment, his gaze never leaving her face. She seemed to consider what to say before finally adding, "Perhaps, another day?"

Though he was loath to do it, he abruptly released her hand. She seemed disappointed, but he merely knelt and began to gather up the books. "This will go twice as fast with two of us, yes?"

As she knelt beside him, picking up the books out of his reach first, as though to avoid their fingers accidentally brushing, she tried to sound casual when she spoke, "I never got your name, either."

"Gryst'lyn Emberdawn."

The moment the name was off his lips, Gryst'lyn froze, suddenly hating himself for every selfish, squandered night that had built his notoriety. Would she hear his name and flee, not wanting her image tarnished from merely being rumored to have been alone in a room with him—after all, it wasn't like sex in a library was something he'd never done, and it could be quite enjoyable, so long as one made sure the bookshelf being leaned upon was sturdy.

He glanced toward her and noticed that she was still diligently picking up the old tomes, though her brow had furrowed. "Gryst'lyn," he wanted to ask her to say his name over and over, "I think I've heard that before, but I can't place it."

Gryst'lyn shrugged as he shot to his feet. "Perhaps a friend mentioned it in passing—" Shit. Had he slept with many of her friends?

She rose to her feet as well and smiled at him. "I'm sure it'll come back to me, sooner or later." As she stepped past him, he tried to hide that her comment had felt like a damning threat rather than innocent reassurance. "The bookshelf is this way…thank you for helping me."

He hurried after her, surprised by how swiftly she could move when she wasn't overburdened. "Don't thank me," he wanted to say something witty, but his mind had abandoned him, so he settled for, "It's what any gentleman would do."

So lame.

She laughed though, pausing to glance back at him. "There must be a short supply of gentlemen in Silvermoon, then." She smiled as he did and Gryst'lyn couldn't imagine that the world could ever be any more perfect than it was. Well, maybe if that robe of hers was on the floor, but that went without saying.

"If such a travesty is true, I'll be glad to be your knight in shining armor."

~?~

Gryst'lyn trotted through the halls of the cathedral, ignoring a few startled stares when a few of the men and women of the light recognized him and wondered why in the world he was carrying flowers and a such a giddy grin.

Amaeria had said that she normally worked on translating older texts to Thalassian, and on occasion she translated other languages, including Zandali, though she'd taken on a few extra tasks while one of her friends was ill. When he'd asked if she'd ever had battle plans from the troll tribes to the south brought to her for translation, she'd blushed and quickly said that there were plenty of better versed scholars for such work.

When he found his way to the study where she worked, after flashing a brilliant smile to a novice priestess and asking the way, he found her seated at a desk near the back of the room, next to the window. It was open and the breeze played with her hair as she leaned forward, engrossed in her work.

Her finger traced a line of text and she thought it over for a moment before turning and carefully transcribing the words onto a fresh piece of parchment. He watched her for a moment as he leaned in the doorway and then casually picked his way past the empty desks and pulled up a seat next to her. When the chair scraped softly against the stone floor, Amaeria jumped, surprised by the noise.

Her gaze flew up toward him. However, while she looked happy to see him at first, a shadow fell across her face and she quickly looked back at her work. "Gryst'lyn. I wasn't expecting you to come by so early."

She was referencing the fact that everywhere they'd gone the night before had been closed by the time they'd finished reorganizing the library and he'd had to settle for a promise that they would dine together in the morrow.

He grinned at her as he lay the flowers beside the text she was translating. Even as he inspected it, the symbols little more than gibberish to him, he let his fingers trail down her back, wishing that her robe wasn't in his way. "What's the matter? Do you have some secret, jealous lover you want to hide me from?"

Amaeria shifted away from his touch and he withdrew his hand, frowning. "I…should be asking you that, shouldn't I?" She paused, giving him an uncertain look. "Or am I the secret?"

Gryst'lyn felt as if a rug had been pulled from beneath his feet. "I'm sorry?"

"I…" Amaeria looked like she regretted what she said already and he found himself forgiving her for her suspicions. "Do you know a Lady Breezerunner?" She glanced back at her work, as though wishing desperately to throw herself back into it. "Because she certainly knows you." Even as he tried to think of a proper protest, Amaeria misinterpreted his silence as an attempt at a denial. "She described you in quite good detail." Her cheeks flushed. "She's seen far more of you than I ever have."

"Would you like to see more of me?" The frown that swept over her features left him cursing himself for answering without thinking. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I mean, yes, I know of Lady Breezerunner." Why was this happening? A small voice in the back of his head whispered that he'd made his bed, but he simply scowled at it. "She…I dallied with a few ladies before I met you."

Her expression was unreadable. "A few? Lady Breezerunner seems to think it was a lot more than a few."

"I…" Gryst'lyn struggled to think of a positive way to spin his constant philandering. Finally a thought struck him and he smiled earnestly. "I haven't been with another woman since I met you."

"You met me four days ago."

"Yes," Gryst'lyn drummed his fingers against the table, "but…that's a really long time for me." He felt like he was drowning. "I mean, I typically have sex at least once or twice a day, more if you count the occasional quicky—"

"Is that why you're here?" Amaeria's voice was a mere whisper.

His ears perked up. "I wouldn't be against it if you wanted to…" The look of disgust that graced her angelic features answered for her and he felt his heart sink as she turned slowly away from him and picked her quill back up. He scooted his chair closer. "Come now. Those other women didn't mean anything—"

"And you expect me to believe that I do?" She looked back at him. "You don't even know me."

The words were worse than any assault he'd suffered prior, and there had been some pretty nasty ones. Gryst'lyn grappled with what she'd said for a moment before reaching out and gripping her hands. Her touch sent chills through him. "You feel it, don't you?" He gave her a pleading look. "I've never felt anything like this before—"

"Not even when you were nine?"

Dammit, dammit, dammit. Why couldn't this have happened months down the road? Why did it have to be just after he'd found her? For a moment his mind turned back toward his wish to be free of these foreign emotions, but that option seemed so lonely…

And his father had said that if he was still taken with her after he saw her again that it wasn't a spell, but honest love.

Even as he opened his mouth to blurt that out, she furrowed her brow. "Admit it, you're here because you want to…you know." Her cheeks flushed again. That could mean so many things and as he stared at her blankly, she dropped her voice to a hiss, as though the very walls of the cathedral would disapprove of her next words. "Have sex."

"Yeah…" he said the word slowly, unsure what trap he was walking into. As she tried to jerk her hands free, he pulled her toward him. "But I want more than that. I want…all of you. Not just your body."

Amaeria looked ready to slip into his arms, though she regained her standing and straightened up in her seat, trying to look proper. "Quite a few ladies said that you'll say anything to get what you want."

Gryst'lyn frowned. "That's not true." Even as Amaeria rolled her eyes, he felt himself growing indignant. "It's not. I've never given a woman a false promise or compliment. I might weave a tale or two to influence her emotions later, but I never use trickery to get someone _into_ bed." On occasion he'd needed it to get them out of it… He'd address that if she brought it up.

"Truly?"

He gave her gentle smile. "Truly."

Catching her chin, he leaned down and kissed her, the best reassurance he knew to give. She slipped her arms around his neck as he pulled her out of her chair and into his lap, his fingers splayed across the fabric covering her back. He let one had run down her leg and rest on her thigh as his lips brushed across her cheek to her ear and then down her neck. She let out a soft groan before pulling one of her hands back to run her knuckles against his cheek as she kissed his forehead.

This was the world as it ought to be.

Even as his lips trailed down to her collarbone and he cursed that priest robes were so modest and couldn't dip down at least a little further, he felt her lean her head against his. "I wonder why they'd say that, though…if it's not true."

Gryst'lyn didn't want to talk about that. "I don't know," his fingers could feel her bra clasps beneath her clothes, "perhaps they're confusing me with Adrias."

"Adrias?"

"My friend," Gryst'lyn murmured, lifting his head to look at her. He let his fingers trail down her back and then slip around her waist so that he could pull her more firmly to him. "He'll do whatever it takes to get the girl. I'm not quite as bad as he is."

Amaeria blinked at him, slowly. Her smile slipping. "He'll promise someone the world to get into bed?"

"That he will."

"You've seen him do this?"

Gryst'lyn furrowed his brow. "Obviously?"

"And you didn't stop him?" His expression blanked and Amaeria frowned. "You knowingly let him mislead women and break their hearts?"

"What he does is his business," Gryst'lyn protested. "Besides, the only heart I'm interested in keeping intact is yours," he gave her a gentle smile, though his attempt at being romantic did not have its intended effect.

"I have a lot of work to do." She slipped out of his lap and back into her chair.

Gryst'lyn stared at her profile for a long moment, his eye twitching slightly. "You're mad at me? For something Adrias did?"

"You could have stopped him." She gave him a cross look. "That you didn't show's you're as deplorable as he is."

"You've obviously never met Adrias," Gryst'lyn grumbled. "He's not the type to take advice and I'm not going to sabotage his evening just for the sake of morality." He paused as she gave him a pointed look and he considered that, being in the cathedral and all, he probably should have phrased that better. "You know, if it's such a problem, you should fix me."

"Any woman who thinks she can fix a man is a fool."

"Isn't it some priestly code that you should save any soul you can?"

"I suppose I could save you then," Amaeria raised her eyebrows, "Though I feel I should let you know that we're not supposed to have intimate relations with the people we 'save'."

"Then take me as I am."

"I," Amaeria dipped her quill into ink and scribbled a line with less care than she'd been using before his arrival, "have no need to take you anywhere."

"Fine," he felt himself losing. He never lost. Not like this…not when he'd had her in his arms. "But I'm still taking you to dinner tonight."

"Oh?" Amaeria looked back at him, pausing to lean her chin into her hand. "And what if I have other plans?"

"That you made in the last twelve hours?" Gryst'lyn leaned against his own hand, their noses nearly touching. He'd pestered her nearly a dozen times to make sure she wasn't forgetting any prior engagement that would leave him date-less. "Now _that_ would be amoral."

"Not amoral, just rude."

"And you don't strike me as that type of woman," Gryst'lyn retorted. As she again stressed that they didn't really know one another, he grinned, "You can't even say 'sex' out loud."

"I can be modest and rude," she protested, straightening up and looking back at her work.

He ran his fingers through her hair and his grin widened as she shivered beneath his touch. She _did_ feel it, too. He felt his confidence return to him as he imagined her being tortured with the loneliness these feelings brought on when they were apart, the same as he was. "You could be, but you aren't." He leaned in, brushed her hair back, and kissed her neck. "Besides, you have a point. You don't know me well and after nearly shooing me away with information from groundless rumors, you owe me a chance."

She set her quill down as he kissed her ear, her cheeks gaining that rosy hue again. "I don't know if I'd say that I owe you," she hesitated, leaning into him without thinking and turning her head so that their cheeks touched. "But I suppose I could give you a chance."

~?~

Gryst'lyn held Amaeria around the waist in front of her door, his lips hungrily against hers, trying to memorize every curve. His hair was knotted around her fingers as she stood on her toes, pressing herself against him, as though even a breath in between them would be some great travesty. Gryst'lyn let one of his hands slip down to rest on her butt while he leaned forward, pushing her against the wall.

As his lips moved to her jaw line and then down, he brought his hand back up toward the laces of her dress. Amaeria untangled herself from him quickly, catching his hand and resting her back against the cool stone of her home. "Gryst'lyn I already told you…"

"No sex in public?" He murmured, leaning in to kiss her again as he reached with his free hand toward her door.

"I don't have casual sex."

He frowned, meeting her gaze with a befuddled one. "I would say that we're rather steady."

Amaeria looked like she wanted to say something for a moment, but instead she sighed. "I…we've been seeing each other for a week. That's not so much committed as it is—"

"Marry me."

"What?" She nearly choked on the word.

Gryst'lyn brought his hands back to her hips, holding her gently. "Marry me." He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. "I've been through my share of trysts, and this is anything but. What we have…it's something else. Something…meaningful." He listened to her soft voice as she tried to piece together a good argument against what he was saying before silencing her with another kiss. "Tell me something. Can you imagine your life with any other man?" He hesitated, frowning when she didn't say anything. "Because I can't see myself with another woman. You're…my everything. I don't understand how or why, but that's it." He offered her a hopeful smile. "So why wait? Marry me."

"Gryst'lyn, it's too soon," She shook her head, slipping away from him. In a breath she was opening her door and he was reaching desperately for her, his eyes begging that she not leave him to suffer another lonely night. "I'm sorry."

~?~

He was waiting for her as she swung open the iron wrought gate leading to her tiny yard and home. He leaned against the wall beside her door, his arms crossed, a frown plastered on his lips. Even before she saw him, she looked as though she was having a rotten day. He wanted to kiss away her worries.

Amaeria took in a sharp breath as she walked straight to her door. He caught her hand as she reached for the knob. "Gryst'lyn please not tonight. I can't—"

"Is it because of him?" When she gave him a confused look, his frown deepened. "That Farstrider that came to see you today."

She was at a loss for a moment. "Are you stalking me?"

"What?" Gryst'lyn blinked back his surprise, though his earlier anger returned. "Of course not. I came by to see you to convince you to come out with me tonight, since you couldn't make it last night." His gaze flickered darker for a moment. "But I noticed you had company."

"He's just—"

"Don't say a friend," Gryst'lyn interrupted. "I saw the way he touched your arm." He looked away. He'd wanted to go over and clock the bastard, to ask Amaeria if he was the reason that she'd started to flake on their dates. However, he'd known that he was too angry to think clearly, so instead he'd tried to go home to give himself time to calm down. It hadn't helped. Before he'd known what he was doing, he was waiting in front of her house, ignoring the way the guards seemed to keep an eye on him, as though they thought him a petty crook.

"My father wants me to marry him," she said quickly and Gryst'lyn felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach.

"You won't." His words were shaky, a sudden terror gripping him. Was he going to be rejected after all? Were these feelings a curse, rather than bliss?

"I don't want to marry him," she murmured. He had to stop himself from saying that was hardly the same as promising she wasn't going to. Abruptly tears pricked her eyes and she jerked free from his grip. "I love y—my life the way it is right now, but every man in it wants me to take things forward and maybe I'm happy just being here."

She darted into her house before he could respond and slammed the door behind her. Gryst'lyn stared at the smooth wood for a few minutes in utter shock. Did that mean…the reason she was avoiding him was because he was asking for her hand?

He ran his fingers through his hair. Weren't women supposed to love that?

He found himself banging on her door and calling out her name, pleading for her to talk to him. When she didn't respond, he scowled, his mood worsening as he glanced over his shoulder to see that the guards were murmuring to each other. Just as one started his way, he whirled away from the door and stormed off into the street.

One thing he had always been blessed with was a sense of direction. Well, so long as he was in a city or town. Once he was surrounded by trees, he was quite helpless, as they all seemed to look alike to him. Cities, however, had so many unique buildings, unique strains of magic weaving through them, settling in certain areas. It was easy to navigate.

Thus, when he walked away, looking as though he'd given up to the guards, he instead looped around to the street behind Amaeria's. He scaled a wall and dropped down into her backyard, careful to avoid being seen by the guards who had yet to move on. As he looked over the house, he had to wonder what the hell he was doing. Trespassing?

He considered hopping back over the wall and going home, but he didn't want to leave things the way they'd been. When she'd been talking, he was certain she'd been about to say she loved him.

Even as he noticed curtains on the second story blowing lightly into the night from an open window, he decided that tonight would be the last night. If she told him she wanted nothing to do with him, he'd respect her decision and do his best to move on. The very thought left a hole in his chest, though he ignored it as he climbed a trellis leading near the window, skillfully jumping to the sill and slipping into the room in time to see Amaeria's robes slip to the ground.

She wanted her life the way it was, right? That included him in it. He stepped forward and reached out as she scrunched the fabric of her nightgown up so that she could slip it quickly over her head. Her shoulders were slumped as his fingers brushed against them. He let his fingers slide down her bare back, awed by the feel of her skin beneath his, even after so many times of holding her. Even as his hands slid toward her hips, she whirled around, her face pale with terror.

It occurred to him somewhere in the back of his mind that he had broken into her house, so she probably hadn't realized it was him. He leaned down and nuzzled her hair, a smile on his lips despite the idiocy of his actions.

She slapped him.

"You can't just come into someone's room like that!" The tears that had driven him to find a way to her threatened to return, her eyes glistening behind their glow. "How did you even—" A breeze wandered in from the window, sending goose bumps over her skin and her attention snapped toward it.

One of Gryst'lyn's hands held her near him by the small of her back while he cupped his stinging cheek. He was trying not to laugh, despite everything. What was he doing here? Now? As she glared up at him, he brought his hand away from his reddened cheek and lifted her chin, kissing her.

He didn't try to grope her or press her naked body against him. Instead, he just kissed her, hoping that his actions could convey what his words so often failed to. She was stiff for a moment and just as it occurred to him that this had been a tremendously bad idea, she leaned into him, pressing her lips more firmly against his.

He pulled back slowly, letting his fingers hold her face, his thumb tracing her lips. After a moment, he glanced down and grinned. "You look cold."

She scowled instantly, bringing her hands between them and shoving him away. Though he could have withstood it easily, he wanted her to feel like she had some say in what happened with her life. Even in so simple an action. He stumbled back, dragging her with him. "Marry me."

He hadn't meant to say it, honestly, but like so many things he said, it had slipped out. No sooner were the words spoken, she pulled away from him, holding her nightgown up to cover herself. "You should leave."

"Amaeria, please." Gryst'lyn felt his humor slipping. He had to tell her everything in his heart. After that, if she wanted to reject him, that was fine, but he needed her to hear him first.

She pointed toward the window. "Out."

"What do I have to say to make you see?" He caught her hands in his, stepping closer. "I love you." She looked ready to say that she'd heard him before, so let his words spill clumsily off his tongue. "I'm not a good man. Not honorable in the least." He held her gaze earnestly. "Before you existed, there was just…darkness. I thought that I loved it, but…then I saw you."

"Gryst'lyn…"

"You're my light, my life…please…" He whispered, raising one of his hands, to brush his knuckles against her cheek. "You said you love your life the way it is, didn't you? I do, too." He felt so lost. She wasn't going to change her mind. "I do, too." He repeated. "Please don't send me back to that darkness. It's too lonely. I need you." He hesitated, a tear rolling down his cheek. "If you don't want to marry me, I can accept that. If you don't want to sleep with me, fine. But let me stay near you. Please."

Amaeria pulled her hands away from him and quietly slipped her nightgown on. Taking a step away from her, Gryst'lyn ran his hand down his face, feeling the tears that still trailed down his cheeks. How stupid had he been? To think that he deserved an angel after all he'd done. As he turned toward the window, he felt Amaeria's fingers brush against his cheek and he stopped.

Looking back at her, she leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him down so that his head rested against her shoulder. She stroked his hair slowly as he wrapped his arms around her. "You wouldn't be happy with that and you know it."

"I'd settle," Gryst'lyn mumbled into her hair.

With a sigh, Amaeria shook her head before leaning it against his. "What am I to do with you?" He felt her smile against his ear. "What did I do to fall in love with a fool of a man?"

With those words, his anxieties fled and he tightened his grip on her, burying his face in her neck. "So then…you aren't angry at me?"

"I can love you and still be angry," she murmured.

"You could be, but you aren't," he whispered as he straightened up finally. She brushed away the few tears remaining. Leaning down, he kissed her slowly, enjoying the taste of her mouth. "I love you. I will for the rest of my life. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You know that, don't you?"

~?~

Gryst'lyn sat at his desk, his pen in one hand as he stared down at the palm of the other. For just a moment, he could have sworn he felt her. Amaeria.

She'd finally said yes. That she couldn't see herself spending the rest of her life with anyone else either and that she would be happy to wake up by his side everyday into eternity if the light would allow it.

When the Scourge had hit, she'd been one of the first to fall. Or so everyone kept telling him. A part of himself had begun to accept that, but his heart still hoped. She was out there, somewhere. Surely, as pure as she was, the world wouldn't snuff out her light. There was so much darkness and a certain balance needed to be kept. Perhaps she had been injured, but someone must have found her, saved her.

Done what he'd failed to do.

Gryst'lyn curled his fingers slowly, watching his skin wrinkle around his knuckles and trying to remember the feel of her skin on his. He'd touched her so many times, so how was it he was starting to forget?

Was this the price of his sins?

Even as he lowered his head toward his desk to cry, the door to his study swung open and he looked up, quickly checking his emotions as he saw it was Adrias' younger brother. A most unusual visitor. "May I help you?"

"Remember how you said you owed me a favor?" The elf started, seemingly wishing to expedite their conversation. They'd never been overly fond of one another, namely because the young elf couldn't stand anyone who liked Adrias. "I have a guild mate who's trying to find out who she is…do you think you could give her access to the city? For just a few hours?" As Gryst'lyn frowned, confused, his guest mirrored his action. "You see, she's a high elf…"


End file.
